Smoke Rings
by softasthunder
Summary: "And in spite of the weather, We could learn to make it together.  The youth is starting to change."


**Disclaimer: I do not own any original American Horror Story characters that may appear in this story.**

**Claimer: The remainder of this story including: plot, dialogue, & OC characters, is my original work.**

**No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author: <strong>__softasthunder_

_**Pairing: **__Violate_

_**Time: **__1994 AU/AH_

Smoke Rings

The Youth – MGMT

"_This is a call of arms to live and love and sleep together. _

_We could flood the streets with love or light or heat whatever. _

_Lock the parents out, cut a rug, twist and shout,"_

_._._

She blows out a smoke ring, walking on the border of the bridge. Nothing is _wrong_, but she's a teenager and they tend to be angst-ridden so she'll probably make anything that could be nothing into a something.

Especially with her boyfriend, overprotective and loving, and all this great shit but wasn't the greatest all bullshit and the worst the one that everyone really wants? At least that's how Violet sees it; darkness is attractive and the light is for the insecure, it's all _bullshit._

Make-up smeared, dress ruined, cigarette dangling from her mouth. Violet Harmon laughed lightly as she almost fell off balance, close to being _splat _somewhere below.

She flicked a piece of hair out of her eyes; headlights were heading straight for her, and the closer they came, the more she saw of the driver.

Blonde hair, brown eyes, grandpa sweater; Tate Langdon was here to save the day.

Stopping his car, he walked towards her. She didn't move, she simply turned to face the vast ocean that the bridge was held atop of. She began swinging her legs back and forth, waiting for him to take a seat next to her.

"What the fuck Violet?" He demands; she looks at him for a split second and sees the furiousness in his eyes.

Her hand reaches out, lightly touching his cheek. He looks lost for a moment, before his anger rammed it's ugly head back out.

"You fucking left the party, didn't tell anyone and I find you walking across a bridge." His eyes burn into her, "Do you know how fucking worried I was? I was freaking out, looking for you everywhere and instead I have to hear from Tyler—"

"Shut up," She yawns, and leans her head on his shoulder. "Take a breather Tate, we're young. We only have one life, so why are we wasting it by worrying?"

She hears him exhale, still pissed off, clearly trying to calm himself down. "Violet," He begins, voice _almost_ wavering, just a bit too monotone. "I don't think you understand how much you mean to me."

She looks a bit lost, and tips her head up too face up. His hands slither under her thighs and pull her into his lap, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you." She rasps, snuggling into her chest. His head falls back, "You're such an idiot," He laughs lightly, and she loves the way it rumbles in his chest.

"Tate," She whispers.

"Violet," He breathes.

They're staring into each other's eyes; it's intense and hot, and his hand starts it's ascend on her thigh.

"I'm hungry." His smile drops, and she's laughing so hard, half-way into herself.

"I hate you." He says, turning them around.

She takes a drag of her cigarette, "No you don't."

He rolls his eyes and swings his arm across her shoulders; she grins and cuddles into his side.

._.

Tate takes her to an all-night diner, treating them both to a burger and a drink. Her iPod is playing softly between the two of them.

It's quiet, they're quiet. It's an okay quiet, a comfortable silence that had laid itself upon them. Tate's semi-staring at his girlfriend and biting into the burger. Violet's stirring their milkshake, eyelids halfway closed and staring back at him.

"Let's get out of here," Tate says, standing up suddenly.

Violet smiles, she loves going out with Tate. Loves it when he takes out on spur-of-the-moments dates and hold her hands, loves it when they sit at the beach, standing on the railings or having a bonfire. She loves just playing games, watching stupid movies with, and talking about music and she loves him.

He loves doing stupid shit with her, loves having her in his lap and her lips pressed against his. He loves the way she blows her smoke rings, the way one eye narrows when she smiles, the way she calls people on their bullshit in that fierce tone.

They're just kinda in love and it's cool because they're sixteen, and who knows what it'll be like three years from now; so they get up and leave to do some stupid shit because they can.


End file.
